Wife’s Teasing Morning After Our Wild Night

The coffee cup trembles in her hand, a smirk playing on her lips as she leans against the counter. Her lingerie, a lacy pastel confection, hugs her curves, leaving little to the imagination. The dim lighting casts shadows that dance across her skin, highlighting every inch of her exposed flesh. She’s a vision, a taunting reminder of the night’s debauchery. And there’s that text, mocking me with its cruel honesty: ‘Did we wear you out? You must have jerked off like ten times watching us last night!’ It’s a punch to the gut, a brutal reminder of my place.

Cuckold’s Morning Aftermath

The room spins a little as I process the words. Ten times? Is that all? The memory of her moans, the sounds of their fucking, it all comes rushing back. I can almost hear it, the wet slapping of their bodies, her cries of pleasure. It’s a symphony of humiliation, a melody I can’t escape. And here she is, standing there, a fucking goddess in her underwear, sipping her coffee like she didn’t just destroy me. The cup, a white porcelain shield, can’t hide the triumph in her eyes. She knows she’s won, that she’s left me a broken, spent mess. But there’s a part of me, a twisted, masochistic part, that loves it. That craves it. The way her body moves, the confidence in her stride, it’s intoxicating. She’s a fucking queen, and I’m her loyal subject, ready to serve at her whim. The thought of her, of them, it’s a drug, and I’m hopelessly addicted. So, I stand here, a cuckold in the making, watching her, wanting her, knowing I’ll never have her. Not like they do. Not like she deserves. And as she finishes her coffee, setting the cup down with a soft clink, I know it’s not over. It’s just beginning. The night was a tease, a preview of what’s to come. And I’ll be here, watching, waiting, jerking off to the memory of her screams. Because that’s my role now, my purpose. To serve, to watch, to worship from afar. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.